A Blade's Journey
by Exxodius
Summary: Talon has lived on the streets for most of his life. But due to a chance meeting, his path will be changed forever. This tale follows Talon through most of his life as he struggles with missions, relationships, and father issues. Rated M for Gore, Violence, Lemons, and Language.


**A Blade's Journey**

**Chapter 1: Respectfully Earned**

** (A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic. I've wrote some stuff down before, but this is my first ever real story that I decided to publish. I'll be updating it weekly if all goes as planned. This piece of work has not been alpha/beta read, so bear with the mistakes if there are any. Also, I'd love to hear some constructive criticism from you readers, so make sure to review or pm me! As always, please Read and Review, and without further ado, here is A Blade's Journey, Chapter 1: Respectfully Earned.)**

The man stood at the edge of the large moat, simply staring off into the distance. He was dressed in a brown hooded cape, with blood stained leather armor from his neck to his gray boots. The boots themselves were stained with blood and mud from trudging through the backstreets of the city. The man had his gloved hands at his side, curled into fists. At his side, resting from the sheath hung around his neck and shoulder was his short steel blade. On his back, he carried a small gray pouch. Inside were three steel throwing knives, sharp as the man who carried them. The man finally raised his hand to the hilt of his blade, and turned away from the city. He looked to the ground, and saw the dead bodies with his brown eyes. He raised his hand up to his hood and pulled it back, revealing his grizzled face. It was the face of a man who knew death, and had dealt it to many. Carefully, and with precision, he stepped over the bodies, and began his tedious task. He grabbed the first corpse and dragged it past the rest of the bodies. He placed it at the edge of small forty foot drop and kicked it in. The small splash resonated from the body hitting the water, as the man, who had just kicked the corpse, walked to the next body. He repeated the process until there was one left. He stopped, looking down at the body, and sighed. He turned his head back to out to the city, and saw the sun beginning to set.

The man loved watching the sunset. He was a born-bred killer, having no family to rely on. He had lived off of a solid wall at his back, and stolen food to fill his stomach. He did not have the luxury of friends, companionship, or even a warm place to stay. He had been on the run for as long as he could remember. He had learned the harshness of the world and city he lived in: kill or be killed. So he killed, he stole, and he ran. Every night he would look for a corner to rest in, so that no one could sneak up behind him, as he had done to so many others in the night. He learned that to love, or to hold on to anything but a blade, was useless. It would only get you killed. The man was guilty of loving only two things: his blades, and the sunset. He loved the sunset because it told him he had survived on the streets of Noxus for another day. He loved his blades because they protected him from harm, and allowed him to become something the city could fear. He feasted on the fear of others, as their fear was a sign of weakness. For it was the Noxian way: the weak will die, the strong will rise. Because of this, the man, who did not even know his own name due to being abandoned in an orphanage, had fashioned himself a name that suited him. One that men would dread to hear: Talon.

Talon swept his gaze to the body at his feet, and was reminded of his task at hand. Abandoning the sun setting behind the city, Talon kicked the last body into the moat before him with his muddied gray boot. The body hit the water below with a small splash. This wasn't the first time the young assassin had littered the moat, and he knew it would not be the last. The recent garbage that Talon had just disposed of had been the twenty-eighth attempt to "recruit" him. He was wanted by literally every single assassin guild in Noxus, and each had the same recruiting message: join or die. So he decided that he would leave his own message to each guild that tried to recruit him. He looked at his feet to see the head of the last corpse had just kicked in still there. He rolled his eyes in anger, and kicked it into the moat as well. As he looked down into the moat, he could see all of his "messages" floating face-down. Talon took in a deep breath, and, again, sighed in contempt at the sight. Not one of his assassins was able to match him. Not one was able to even land a scratch on him. Not one of these pitiful men could contest his prowess with a blade, let alone best him. Talon was certain that no one would ever be able to match his blade, blow for blow.

Talon sat down on the edge of the moat, and looked out towards the rest of the city. Despite living in Noxus all of his life, Talon felt no patriotism towards his homeland. All he saw when he looked at the city was potential targets and weaklings, both unable to satisfy his thirst for a nemesis. For that is what Talon truly wanted: someone he could fight to the best of his abilities, yet never able to defeat. This might seem like an incredulous wish to have, but Talon had started to feel something after the fifteenth attempt to "recruit" him that spurred this wish: fear.

They had sent General Darius along with his younger brother Draven to hunt him down. Before the pair could track Talon down, they were called back due to a sudden urgency from Noxian High Command, the division in charge of the military and government. Talon personally did not care why they were called back, but he was glad they were. Talon wanted a nemesis, not a death wish. The blood brothers were the only "messages" that were missing from the moat, but Talon doubted that they would have ever gotten there in the first place. Ever since they were recalled however, Talon feared he had finally made it onto the High Command's most wanted list. Talon knew enough that to be on this list meant certain death. Because of this new threat, Talon openly taunted the assassin guilds of Noxus in hopes to find someone who could compete with his mastery of the blade. Talon had made up his mind months ago that he could only follow the one who could best his proficiency.

So Talon, day after day, fought against the assassins sent to kill him, only to leave them in Noxus' grand moat as a message for others to try their skill. But with every failed attempt, Talon's disdain for the assassin guilds increased. As Talon's disdain for the guilds grew, the more assassins they sent to dispatch of him. As Talon looked down again into the water forty feet below him, he thought to the last victims his blade had felled.

**FLASHBACK**

Talon was surrounded. He didn't need to look around; he knew. They had appeared just moments ago, as though from thin air, surrounding him whilst creating a fifteen foot circle around him. Unlike what most people would do when in the middle of several hooded figures, Talon merely tugged his hood down a bit lower, and relaxed. The man in front of Talon that had appeared just moments ago stepped forward. He was wearing a light brown cotton shirt, a simple pair of blue jeans, and muddy browned boots. The man's casual attire contradicted itself, as he also donned heavy Hextech Drills attached to his hands, along with a diving bell headpiece on his head.

"Hey there, kid. Look, I'm gonna spare ya the shit here, and get right down to business," the man said mockingly, nodding his big helmet towards Talon. "I'm here to recruit your dumb ass, and bring ya back to the boss. If ya say no, me and my boys here are gonna kill ya. You're choice, blade dude," the man finished.

Talon merely scoffed at the proposition and the man's poor English. He could feel the weakness emanating off the man. It was almost like an unbearable stench for Talon. One he would soon eliminate. Before Talon could respond however, a lithe man, dressed in a black morph suit and a gas mask along with some slim brown armor over his chest and legs, approached the man with the diving helmet.

"C'mon Digga, this kid ain't gonna do shit for us. Let's just kill his ass and get back to the boss. I'm sick of wasting time on punks like 'dis," the lithe man said to the guy wearing the diving helmet.

"Shut 'da fuck up, Rat. We were told to offer him a place, so that's what we gonna do. Now step the fuck off and get back to your position," Digga said to Rat, motioning one of his big drill hands to him. He was clearly pissed off, and, Talon guessed, it was not the first time Rat had stepped out of line. The lithe man, Rat, merely growled at Digga in response, before walking back to where he came from. Talon's eyes never left Rat. Talon already knew that Rat would be the first victim to his blades. He could hear the gurgling sound that Rat would make when his blade made contact with his sternum. He would enjoy that sound, he decided.

"Now, where was I? Right, kid, ya joining or what?" Digga said to Talon, breaking him out of his daze. Talon finally tore his gaze off Rat to look at Digga. Talon could see that Digga was shifting with unease. Digga, unlike his allies, wasn't as stupid as he looked. He had seen the moat before he was sent to hunt Talon down. He knew what Talon was capable of, and he feared him for it. Unbeknownst to Digga was that Talon could sense his fear, and would use that to his advantage. Talon decided that he was going to inspire more fear in the man he looked at now before he plunged his blade down the man's throat. So rather than speaking, he merely shook his head.

"Aww c'mon kid—can I call ya kid? I'm gonna call ya kid. Why don't ya just join us?" The man asked, fear riddled in his voice. "It's not bad, once ya get used to that little shit over there," he finished, pointing at Rat. He was attempting to appeal to him. Bemused, Talon shook his head again. "Gods damn it," Digga whispered under his breath. Digga looked at his allies, and nodded to them. Talon simultaneously heard blades being unsheathed. He smiled under his hood. Talon decided it was time to see it what he was up against before he struck.

Talon looked around to see seven men, including Rat and Digga, surrounding him. Rat had a pair of battle claws on, whilst the rest seemed to have an assortment of blades and daggers. Only one man wielded a long sword, but Talon knew that despite the reach of the sword, Talon could best it with ease. He also spotted a man with a crossbow. Talon recognized the threat, and knew that his man would have to die after Rat if he were to live. After further inspection though, Talon immediately realized, from the way the others were standing, that these other men were untrained. Talon spotted a man with a scar on his face that was holding his dagger a little too loosely. Talon made a note of that, before he turned back to Digga, who was beginning to speak again.

"Alright kid, ya making me do this. So why don't ya just be a good lil' kid and die quietly, alright?" Digga asked, pitifully. Talon again stared in contempt at the coward before him, before his hand slid down to the sheath that held his short blade. He unsheathed it slowly, the screeching sound sending shivers down Digga's back. If Talon could see Digga's face, he knew it would be full of fear. And he loved knowing that it probably was.

"Talon," Digga said, using Talon's name for the first time, "you're surrounded. Why don't ya just put down that blade, man? This doesn't have to get ugly. I'll give ya a clean death, on my honor as an assassin."

Talon felt a seething anger pulse through him. _This man, practically pissing his pants, dared to call himself an assassin?! _Talon dropped into his fighting stance, raising his blade above his head, and putting his left hand behind him into the small pouch on his back. He clutched the three small throwing daggers inside, and prepared himself. _He will wet himself with blood when I am through with his pathetic hide, _Talon thought to himself.

"There are seven of us, Talon. Ya can't win," Digga said, interrupting Talon's thought. Talon felt his blood pump through his veins, eager to put a knife through the man's chest, but he calmed himself. He would toy with the man for a bit longer yet.

"Not enough," Talon whispered. It was barely audible, but loud enough for Digga to hear.

"What'd ya say? It sounded like you said—."

"Not enough. You should have brought more assassins," Talon said, cutting Digga off. Talon raised his head and grinned at Digga. All Digga could see were the white teeth of Talon's deathly grin. Digga froze with fear, and Talon seized his moment and threw himself into action.

Talon spun around and threw his three throwing knives at Rat and two other men. Each knife hit their marks. The two men were hit right in the jugular, and gurgled on their blood as they fell to the ground. Rat, however, was hit in the sternum. Rat looked down in shock to see the small knife protruding out of his chest, and fell to his knees. When he looked up, he saw a flash of steel. It was the last thing he saw, as he too fell to the ground with his throat eviscerated. Rat died instantly, followed swiftly by the two men on the ground.

Talon wasted no time. He bent down and ripped the throwing knife from Rat's chest. He then dived over Rat's body, throwing the knife he had just picked up outward. It found its mark: The crossbowman who had just started to react to what had happened was hit right between the eyes, dropping him instantly. The man with the dagger dived at Talon, but Talon, who was recovering from his dive by rolling, sprang up and propelled himself over the man. Talon stretched out his arm and cut the man's throat mid jump, and twisted himself back around so that he landed on his feet, facing Digga and the man with the long sword. Talon reached behind him, and grabbed the dagger man's arm, and pried the dagger from his hands, as the man with the long sword charged him. Talon smiled, and threw the recently acquired dagger at the man who was charging forth. Again, Talon's aim was perfect. The small dagger lodged itself into the man's neck. The man fell forward, throwing his sword up in the air as he clutched his throat in vain. Talon noticed that Digga was still frozen, and took his chance. He launched himself forward, and jumped. In mid-jump he round house kicked the long sword that was falling, sending it flying towards Digga. Before Digga could react, the blade pierced him through his chest. He began to fall backwards, only to find that Talon was already there, catching him. Talon ripped off the man's helmet, and looked into the Digga's eyes. Talon's eyes were full of malice and hatred. Digga was in shock and could not feel the sword piercing him, but he felt the dread when he looked into Talon's brown eyes. Talon smiled grimly, and reached his hand down to the hilt of the blade that had pierced Digga. Talon stood Digga up, and put his head over his shoulder, forcing Digga to look at his fallen allies. Digga merely stared at his men, dying or dead, with horror.

"You call yourself an assassin. You're a coward and you're weak. And I cull the weak," Talon whispered into Digga's ear. Talon swiftly stepped back from Digga, drew the blade out of the man's chest, only to bring the blade up and whirl back around, slicing the man's head clean off. As Digga's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, Talon dropped the sword and turned to marvel at the carnage he created. He was not disappointed. He saw the corpses in their own pools of blood, and he smiled. He turned around to look at Digga. He heard a cough.

Talon swivelled around to see one of the corpses turn over. He approached the body, and recognized it as the man who wielded the long sword. The man had removed the blade from his throat, and was holding the open wound closed with his bloodied hand. Talon kneeled on one knee, and looked into the man's eyes.

The man looked up at Talon and said one word. "Mercy," the man managed to whimper out. Talon nodded his head, raised his blade in hand, and stabbed it through the man's heart, killing him instantly. Talon removed the blade cleanly, and stood up. He looked at the seven dead men around him, and felt a sudden emptiness within himself. None of them could even land a scratch on him. Talon sighed in disappointment, as he began his lengthy task of retrieving his throwing knives, and starting to move the bodies to the moat.

**END FLASHBACK**

Talon stared at the floating head, and snorted in contempt. _This last batch was more pathetic than the first, _he thought to himself. Disgusted with the weakness he was staring at, he looked out to the city again. Blocking his view however, was a cloaked figure dressed in black with two small short swords sheathed at the figure's sides. Talon leaped up from his sitting position and drew his blade immediately. He stared intently at the figure, but it gave no signs of movement. He raised his short blade to the figure.

"Who are you?" Talon asked the cloaked figure.

"I am what you fear most," a man's voice simply replied.

Talon stared in disbelief at the man. _'I am what you fear most'? What does that mean? _Talon thought to himself. Before Talon could process what the man had said however, the cloaked man quickly drew his two blades, and dashed forward at Talon.

Talon barely had enough time to block the man's blows before the man attacked again, with more vigor. Talon blocked each blow as best as he could, barely able to keep up with the man's speed. After what seemed like minutes, Talon soon felt the man's blows start to lose their strength. Talon took this as a sign of weakness, and launched his own counter-attack. It was exactly what his opponent had been anticipating.

As Talon thrust his sword forward, he saw the two blades of his opponent flash in an instant, catching his blade in a v-shape. The man flicked his blades, sending Talon's blade out of his hand. Talon quickly sprang backwards, realizing he was defenseless, but he wasn't fast enough. As he jumped through the air, he felt cold steel slice into a thin layer of his flesh on his stomach. He landed in a crouched position with a grimace, as he felt his stomach with his right hand. He felt a hot liquid trickle onto his hand, as he looked at his opponent, who had gracefully raised his arms into a criss-cross formation with his blades parallel with to his face. The man stood resolute, waiting for Talon to make his next move.

Talon realized that he was going to die. The man whom he faced now, not only baited him into a counter attack, but was faster and stronger than he was. No one had been able to react that fast, not anyone that Talon had met anyway.

Talon reached his left hand behind his back into his trusty pouch, and gripped his throwing knives tightly. _If I am going to die, I may as well give this guy one hell of a show, _Talon thought grimly. Talon slowly removed the three throwing knives from the pouch, but kept his hand behind his back. Talon stared at his opponent. He suddenly had an idea.

Talon quickly formulated the plan in his head. He knew that the moment he moved, the man would likely close the gap between them. If he threw his throwing knives then, the man would probably batter them out of the way before cutting him down. But if Talon threw two of his knives, and made it look like he was out, he could block the next attack, and perhaps land a blow on his cloaked foe. Talon inhaled deeply, and exhaled preparing himself for what could be the last fight of his life. He breathed what he thought would be his last breath, and sprang into action.

Talon quickly stood up and threw his two throwing knives while dropping one behind him. As expected, the figure threw himself at Talon, easily batting the two knives out of the way, all within mere milliseconds. Talon kicked his blood-stained grey boot backwards, kicking his last throwing knife up and above his head. Talon quickly grabbed the knife that was in mid-air, and brought it up sideways, just in time to block his opponent's overhead two handed strike. The man was surprised that his attack had been blocked, and Talon seized this opportunity to turn the tables on him. Pushing with as much force as he could muster, Talon threw off his opponent's blades, and quickly dashed past the man, raking his side with his knife. Talon didn't stop sprinting until he reached his blade that had been tossed away from him earlier. Talon threw the throwing knife behind him, hoping to stall his opponent further, as he lunged for his blade. As he landed on his stomach, he reached his arm out and put a hand on the handle, only to feel a boot crush it. Talon looked up to see the cloaked figure standing before him, with one of his blades pointed at Talon's head.

Talon hadn't even heard him. Talon didn't even see the man pass him. In awe, Talon merely looked up at his executioner and the sword pointed at him. It was then the cloaked man sheathed his other sword, and brought the hand up to the cowl that covered his face. The man pulled it back, and revealed black hair with a slight tinge of gray. Talon's face contorted into utter surprise. He knew who the man was just by looking at his face. The man simply looked down at Talon and smiled warmly.

"Hello, Talon," the man said softly to the young man at his feet. Talon just stared for a moment before he finally responded.

"Hello, General Du Couteau."

**It's getting a bit heated! I'll be updating this story in the next 4 days, so be on the look out for more chapters of A Blade's Journey! **

**Until next time.**

**-Exxodius.**


End file.
